The Taxidermist and other Telugu stories

I was brought up in Orissa and had the advantage of learning four languages: English from school, Hindi from surroundings, Telugu at home and Oriya from the domestic help and as part of learning third language at school.

My parents were very much in favor of our learning and speaking the MT at home. In the course, we were taught how to read and write the language. The Telugu guide called 'Pedda Bala Siksha' was considered a Bible and each day we were asked to learn a part of it...it could be names of months of Hindu calender, the alphabet, numbers...all this and more. Strict punishment awaited the one who could not memorize and recite the same to father when he asked.

The learning was reinforced through buying of the monthly magazine for children, the Telugu 'Chandamamas'. Always hungry for stories, we kids used to look forward patiently to the issue every month and greedily lap up the contents. By this process, the MT got reinforced in the most delightful way.

The flip side was that a knowledge of the language when combined with an appetite for stories finds no stopping. The next target were the Telugu weeklies that my mom used to get at home. I remember her subscribing to three Telugu weeklies called the Andhra Jyothi, Andhra Prabha, Andhra Patrika and a monthly one called Yuva. We as kids were forbidden from touching the 'adult' magazines. My very obedient brothers never dared defy the orders but I being the rebel in the family, used to read the magazines on the sly. It was a wonderful world that had opened up for me through those magazines. There were serials, short stories, a mini novel (with Yuva), most of them containing the forbidden and banned 4 letter word 'LOVE'.

I was exposed to the world of love stories, one of which I remember as 'Prema lekhkalu'(love letters) by Sulochana Rani which was later made into a movie. I also remember the outrageous 'Maidanam' written by Chalam.Perhaps these unknowingly sowed seeds of awareness of the rights of a woman. Chalam advocated the thought that a woman has a mind , a body and a heart and these deserve the right to choose and be free. In the society which is still highly prejudiced against women, these thoughts were surely very rebellious in those times.

Also one of the short stories read in those days was one called 'The Taxidermist' about a set of parents wherein the husband plans the career path of his two kids, saying that the son would become this after growing up and the daughter that. I don't remember the exact details of the short story but I remember how much of an impact it made on my mind. At an age where I was not too good with difficult words in English, I was exposed to the word taxidermist and had to look up the dictionary to find out its meaning. In the story, the wife laments as to how the husband gradually brainwashes his children to give up what they are passionate about and to walk on the path which he chooses for them. Taxidermy, I came to know is the art of carving out the insides of the animal and re stuffing them to give them a life-like appearance and mount them for display.

The philosophy enunciated above finds its substantiation in Chalam's philosophy which finds a mention in Wiki.
1. He believed that the barriers created by the society precluded love and mutual understanding from human relationships.
2. In a society that believed in the children being indebted to their parents, he proclaimed caring for and bringing up of children as the fundamental duty as parents.
3. He was widely shunned during his times especially for his advocacy of women’s rights and his total rejection of the family system.

To this day, I don't regret reading those Telugu magazines. On the other hand, I am grateful to the awareness that they brought me. I learnt what I as a woman am and what I am capable of.
Thank you, Telugu literature!

Taj Tristar

I have been exploring restaurants especially vegetarian ones in quest of new tastes looking for that signature dish that would set it apart from the rest.

Funnily, the restaurants that I have been trying are far flung from my home and I haven’t really tried or explored many which are closer. So thought of trying Taj Tristar today. At the entrance to the restaurant, I was checked by one of the lady staff. After the scan she says, “Show me your bag (purse).” Everyone knows how irksome security checks can be. And when one meets a pleasant staff, the mandatory experience can be put up with. I asked the lady to add a ‘please’ to her request. Instead of taking the feedback, she retorts saying that she can say a please and still be rude in her request. I simply moved ahead after the security check not bothering to discuss.

Priced at Rs 300 for a weekend buffet, the vegetarian fare did not really do justice to the price. The spread was fairly good…four curries, a dal, biryani, Chinese stuff, desserts, two varieties of soups—clear spinach soup and tomato… (spinach was OKish but tomato was ughh!), two starters were good— cauliflower and vegetable gold coin; the Russian salad was tasty too. The biryani was mildly and pleasantly spiced. When I look for that one thing that’s different in the restaurant, it’s the dosa . After the starters, we were offered a dosa…a palak dosa. Later, I found out that there were an assortment of dosas but we weren’t told about it by the waiter. For those with a sweet tooth, there was the mandatory gulab jamun, rasgulla, banana souffle, khowa, halwa and ice-cream. It is quite evident that the restaurant is an old one with the furniture looking quite jaded. The staff though not impolite weren’t really all that outgoing or helpful.

Coming back to food…well nothing was bad in taste…there will be no regrets at having eaten here; yet nothing was so exceptionally good that it makes you visit again and again.

All-in all a 3/5 experience.

Carmel School, Rourkela

Some 5 years back when the school celebrated our (silver jubilee) alumni meet I was not aware and hence did not attend but happened to see a picture of our school in the internet. That picture was instantly downloaded and was my desktop picture for a long time. That’s the bond that I will have forever with my school.

When I stepped into the school after all these years, all else was forgotten. I wanted to first go and visit my classroom but held on patiently. But once beyond Sister’s room, I bounded two steps at a time to go to ‘my’ classroom…XB. My steps faltered as I stepped into the same class room after all these years. The first image was that of Mrs. Bose sitting in that chair and knowing that she was our class-teacher and the first day in her class…uff...soooooooooooo many memories…can go on…I literally started jumping up and down JUST to think that I was back here. Everything came rushing back as Valson and I recounted all those days.

I was excitedly pointing out the different things/places and it is thanks to my son who unknown to me was quick in capturing all those memories which excited his mother so much. I am so glad my son was there with me as he could actually see where his mother studied. And did I imagine all those years ago that thirty years later my son would stand in the same place where his then 16 year old mother’s feet had walked?! Amazing feeling. For those 40 minutes everything was forgotten as I floated dreamily to each of these special nooks.

It just DOESN’T seem like 30 years. Especially when you revisit, all those years simply vanish.

Going back to Rourkela

1992 was when we people left Rourkela and after that I never went back. Every time longing to go back and re-live those carefree days. My breath, my life, my existence everything seems to have been left behind in the air of Rourkela.

Being a part of Rkl-mates group, there was a get-together planned of people from across schools. I was truly looking forward to it hoping to meet some of my class mates.At the same time I was prepared to be disappointed with the meet and it truly was. But the point was to be at Rkl and that succeeded.

As I stepped on to the Rkl soil and took a deeeeeeeeeep breath of Rkl-air, I was vibrating with life. The 22nd of December when winter had begun and the breath condensed into smoke circles...As I stepped outside the station, I tried to look back and recall whether the railway station was the same or had it changed? The rickshaws outside were still there. Our hotel was at old Rourkela...imagine coming home and having to stay at a hotel!

As I entered the township, my eyes were greedily lapping up the ring road scene...not sure of where it started...some roads seeming familiar and some unfamiliar...as we were taken through the Engineering road with which I wasn't too familiar even then..all that I knew very well was the road from sector 20 to Old Rourkela...the road which led to our college and the road from Sector 20 to Carmel school via IGH & Nehru maidan. It seems the Nehru maidan is no longer used for the Dushera celebration when we kids used to gather to watch Ravan getting 'killed' year after year by 'Rama'.

The sad part was seeing the houses which were our first homes in such dilapidated conditions. What were the vast beautiful garden where we played seemed to have shrunk to just a pocket sized piece of land.Had the house and the accompanying space shrunk or is it because I was seeing it after so many years? The gardens which had won so many prizes for being the most beautiful one in the township...

Meeting people from back then...so much has changed and so much has remained the same...but what I came back with is enough memories to last me this life time.

Small, little big things of life

The last week son comes home with a certificate in hand endorsing his work at office. The certificate was not like a generalized one but typed out specifically praising the work done by him for a project well-executed in Singapore on his own.

Even when the work was allotted, he was a bit skeptic about handling such huge project single-handedly especially given that he is still green behind the ears.Yet, venturing on a foreign soil and handling a project of this size successfully will sure fill him with a confidence to handle bigger responsibilities in future.

Handling the infrastructural set-up, working with the vendors, following up, support and maintenance...all this within one year of his first job...his skepticism is gone for sure! :)

Being in your 40s

In your 40s you aren’t really that old but definitely not young anymore. You are at that anvil of life where you start realizing that your efforts have been directed rightly or wrongly. You are at that juncture where turning back and making a fresh start is difficult. So much water has passed by. Either in relationships or career, you are set on a path. All that can be done is either seek improvements on the chosen path or keep making compromises. You are at that juncture where on one hand you feel sad at things left unachieved, yet glad that you still are physically strong enough to do things on your own. You still earn and that adds to your feeling of self-esteem.

Dreading that age of 60, 70 or 80 where you become so fragile and infirm that you need someone to support you all the time. Can still achieve but feel frustrated at things which cannot be changed and now wishing that you had taken risks and chosen a path that you had desired, not succumbing to pressures of life. In the middle of life and from here things cannot be bettered…physically your health is only going to deteriorate. Imprisoned by these circumstances and making the best of what you have till it lasts…that’s what being 40 is about.

Tabu, Nag and Love

Read news of Tabu getting married to one business man sometime early next year. A piece of gossip? Yes…but what really caused an interest is that the 40 year old has been in love with the 51 years Nag for the last 14 years!

When one thinks of marriage, one can only ruminate on what it means…no other living being is bound with such ties except the human being. Is it love that binds two in marriage? If yes, then why does one tire of the relationship? Nagarjuna was married once. I am not aware of the circumstance of his first marriage but the second one with Amala was surely one of love. Marrying her and bearing a child with her, what then drew him to Tabu while making the film “Ninne Pelladutha?”

A feeling of sympathy persists when you look at it from the wife’s perspective. The drama being drawn out in Prabu Deva’s case…married for 15 long years and with three children what now draws him to someone a good 11 years his junior?

Is it possible to logically analyze the feelings of love? Tabu who hasn’t sought any relationship beyond that of Nag’s, still will not bear him a child as the child will not have social sanction. And especially in the Indian context, one feels incomplete without a child to make up a family. Your heart does go out to Tabu when you see the emotional investment that a relationship involves. It must not be easy for Nag either to see her get married to someone else. But when you think of Amala…how do you justify these actions? Is something called ‘Love’ really the binding factor for marriage? Is that what keeps a relationship going? Then when does a person realize what’s really love? Wasn’t it love that bound Nag-Amala? Is love just a convenience? Someone you are attracted to till you find someone better? I find this quite bewildering and too complex to analyze.

If being in love gives you such a warm feeling, that you want to do things to make someone’s life worth living, how is this wrong? Should one denounce marriage as an artificially created social binding and keep seeking that love which can only fill you with warmth? Why does one feel compelled to bow oneself to social sanctions? It’s easy to say that it’s wrong to seek an extra marital relationship. But when in love, how do you make your heart listen to your mind?